


of Dreams and Fatigue

by JamieisClassic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkwardness, Cuddling & Snuggling, Healing, M/M, Major Character Injury, cuts off just before the smut js, fear of the dark, mild mutual pining i guess?, neck kissing?, someone gets bitten by a spider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieisClassic/pseuds/JamieisClassic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris gets bitten by a venomous spider and Hawke forces him to get Anders to heal him. Unfortunately the process is more complicated than anyone expected and Anders requests he stays the night, just in case. Bonding occurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of Dreams and Fatigue

**Author's Note:**

> I only mildly edited so please ignore minor/major spelling or grammar errors. Doesn't really have anything to do with the Guest but I kinda followed some of the plot I guess... Its a really good short story and I would recommend it if you have the time to read it!

“Men who share the same rooms, soldiers or prisoners, develop a strange alliance as if, having cast off their armour with their clothing, they fraternized every evening, over and above their differences, in the ancient community of dream and fatigue.” - Albert Camus, the Guest

 

 

It was a long trek down Sundermount and by the time the group of four reached the edges of the city Fenris was shaking. Not a cold shaking, or even angry shaking as he was moderately privy to after some magic related ‘adventure’ with Merrill, but shaking, trembling with a sickness he denied vehemently when questioned. 

“You sure you’re alright, Broody? You’re really not looking so good,” Varric worried after him, and Fenris snorted.

“I assure you, dwarf, I am fine.” His voice betrayed him, though, and broke on the last word. He was very much not fine and that was becoming increasingly obvious. His body shook, bloodshot eyes closing without his consent as a strange color tinged the not usually visible veins under his skin. It almost looked like the blight.

“I told you,” Merrill tutted, “Not to get bitten by those big spiders, but what did you do? Run up to them and let them bite you!” 

“I did not let them bite me,” Fenris quipped, but not with the amount of bite he usually would and Hawke sighed.

“I really think you should-” she started, but was cut off by Fenris.

“Absolutely not!” he snapped.

“But he has got to know what to do!” Hawke argued, “I’m not going to watch you die because you happen to be a stubborn fuck!”

“I’m sure you can find an antidote, I am not letting that mage set a single finger on me.” 

 

“Anders!” Hawke marched into his clinic and he looked up from the table he was tidying to see her drag a very petulant elf in behind her, his eyes blazing with some kind of hatred that made Anders want to get his staff, just in case.

“What’s wrong, and why is he here?” Anders inquired, motioning to Fenris and the tight grip Hawke had on his forearm. 

“A certain elf who likes to rush into things rushed into a very venomous spider and is dying. That certain elf is him. That’s why he’s here.” Hawke finished off in a short manner that meant she was trying to hide how much she was scared, and Ander’s softened.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright, Love,” Anders reassured her, then turned to Fenris, “Sit on one of the cots, could you? And I need to know what kind of spider it was.” 

“No, I will not sit on these filthy cots, I do not even need to be here.” Fenris snarked, but didn’t fight Hawke’s grip.

“Corrupted spider I believe, but I didn’t get that good a look,” Hawke added helpfully. 

“Okay, well, sit him down if you can and I’ll see if I can find an antidote,” Ander’s muttered bustling off to the back room.

Hawke spoke to Fenris softly and her words faded as Ander’s left them. He hadn’t dealt with a poisoning in a long time, most (sane) people avoided the spider infested places and the refugees he attended too rarely got out of the city anyhow. He would often heal a knife wound or deliver a child, but he rarely dealt with venomous animal bites, and he knew his supplies would reflect that. As he suspected, even a second rummage through his store of bottles and salves returned no antidote that would correct the poison running through the elf’s veins, and while some part of Anders would be happy to watch Fenris die, he knew how devastating it would be to lose a companion, even one he didn’t see eye to eye with. Unfortunately, along with being rare, venom and poison were nearly impossible to treat through magic alone and he wasn’t sure how much he could actually do for Fenris. Grabbing a few special herbs and plenty of elfroot he headed back to the main part of the clinic. 

Upon entering he saw the elf laid across a cot, back slightly arched as yelled something at Hawke that sounded a lot like ‘Make it stop’ and Anders sped up his steps. 

“What is going on?” Anders asked.

“What do you think is fucking going on?” snapped Fenris sharply.

Anders sighed, “Hawke, I don’t have an antidote.” He paused, and when her face fell into a mix of terror and agony he pressed on, “I may be able to make a solution that will keep the poison at bay while it works through his body and keep it from killing him but I’m not even sure it will work.”

“Is that our best chance?” she asked quietly, her eyes strained once again on where her hands sat on Fenris’ chest.

“Yeah, unless you can find an antidote  really  soon.” With that Anders stood and went to a work table, finding a small cauldron to mix the herbs in and a bit of water to use as a base. He soaked the elfroot first while the water heated, and ground the other herbs to mix after. 

When the potion was finished and strained to remove the leaves, he cooled it to a drinking temperature with a swirl of his fingers and poured it into a cup, heading back to Fenris’ cot with it and a bottle of elfroot essence. He handed the cup to Fenris who drank more willingly that Anders had expected, and when the elf had finished and handed the cup back, it was placed on the floor, the mage took to drawing healing runes on the other man’s forehead with the elfroot essence. Fenris squirmed at first, unused to the contact and untrusting of the mages touch, but once Anders reassured him that it would take some of the pain away he settled down. 

Well, settled down until Anders asked him to take off his armor and shirt. Then he flipped shit, as well as a very poisoned elf could at any rate, and snarled at the mage loudly. Hawke seemed to come back to herself at that point as well and glanced between the two men confused before finally asking what Fenris neglected to, “Why?”

“I need to place to rune above his heart to stop the poison from infecting it more than it already has. The longer I wait the more likely he is to die.” Anders explained quietly. 

“Fenris…” Hawke murmured, silent plea dying on her lips but screaming through her eyes and the man sighed, sitting up, and removed everything waist up without another word. 

He laid back down on the cot and Anders continued the runes but on the elf’s chest this time, fingers dragging the essence over his tattooed skin slowly and gently, and while Fenris detested it, he also found it a calming reprieve from the burning in his veins. Soft steps echoed in the silent clinic as Merrill found her way to Hawke’s side, come to check on both her and Fenris. She nodded to Anders, who gave her a smile, and she placed her hand on the back of Hawke’s tense neck, massaging lightly. 

“Is he going to get much better before morning?” she asked quietly, and Anders shook his head no. 

“I need to stay.” Hawke said, knowing Merrill’s intentions to take her home.

“Yes, but you also need to sleep and this grimey clinic is no place for that,” Fenris muttered through his teeth, pain keeping his voice on edge. Anders gave him a sharp look for the comment but said nothing.

“Please, Hawke, come home. We can come visit tomorrow morning, first thing. I promise.” Merrill tugged her arms, soft but insistent, and Hawke gave with a little sigh, pushing herself up and clutching her girlfriend’s hand as they left, too exhausted to even remember to say goodbye properly, leaving the two men in a long silence.

“That reminds me,” Anders near whispered, his voice seeming too loud in the silent clinic, “You should stay the night here, however grimey you think it is, so that if anything goes wrong with the potion or runes I can take care of it right away.” 

“If you think I wouldn’t risk my well being to avoid sleeping on one of these damned cots, mage, you are sorely mistaken.” Fenris stated, eyes solidifying his challenge more than his still-weak voice. 

“What did I ever say about cots? I have a perfectly good bed in the back that you may have,” Anders corrected, “I’ll drag a cot in for myself, seeing as I don’t find them utterly detestable.” 

“You think sleeping in your bed makes it any better?” Fenris quipped, cocking an eyebrow.

“Probably cleaner than whatever dust-covered magister-drooled-on thing you’ve been sleeping in these last few years,” Anders replied, “I know the meaning of laundry.” 

Fenris just huffed and scowled at him, but they both knew the mage was right. It had been over three years since the elf started squatting in the mansion and he hadn’t taken the time to so much as clear the dead bodies out of the main hall. 

“Has the pain faded any?” Anders asked, voice softer than his earlier tease, a genuine concern showing through that he hadn’t meant to show. 

“Yes, actually, quite,” Fenris replied, sitting up, “I suppose I should thank you, I was in a great deal more pain that I have been since… for a long time.” 

“Thank me when you live through the night,” Anders muttered, pushing away what ever questions about the elf’s past lingered on the back of his tongue, “You’re probably quite tired after all that, do you need anything particular to sleep in?” 

“My shirt will do fine,” Fenris shook his head, then added, “That won’t interrupt the runes, will it?” 

“No, they’ve soaked into your skin by now, you’ll be fine.” With that Anders stood and returned the cup and the bottle of elfroot essence back to the crafting table and began readying himself for bed. He first dragged one of the cots into his small bedroom, struggling a bit to position it so that it cut off access to neither the door nor the bed, finally settling for a strange angle that shoved one side into the bottom of the bed and the other against the adjacent wall, half covering the doorway on the left wall. He then let down his hair and combed it through, running the comb harshly through his scalp, relishing its push on the tired follicles and skin that were sore from the day in a ponytail. Finally, he scrapped his regular clothes for a loose fitting pair of pants and grabbed a blanket from a trunk next to his bed as well as a pillow from the bed itself. 

He was finishing up arranging the blanket on the cot when Fenris entered, long shirt skirting the tops of his thighs and the remainder of his clothes folded in his hands. 

“Is there a surface in this place that is relatively clean for my to place my things on?” the elf asked, looking around the small room critically.

“You’re one to talk,” Anders huffed under his breath, then pointed at the chest he had retrieved the blanket from, “That should be clean enough, your highness.” 

Fenris sneered at the title, but placed his things on it anyway. On the other side of the bed, the right side, there was a small table with a candle and some books on it, but other than that the room was relatively sparse. It may have been small, but it was comfortable rather than confining and for that Fenris was grateful. He sat on the bed, the soft mattress giving way to his weight, and was surprised by how nice it felt under him. 

Anders, on the other hand, had forgotten how uncomfortable cots were, and was mostly laying down on the rough surface, covered by a warm blanket  and propped up on his elbows, massaging his scalp once more before going to sleep. It was a strangely mesmerizing thing to watch, Fenris noted, the way the muscles of the mage’s shoulders and neck tensed and relaxed as his fingers grinded through his hair, though the elf would never admit to any interest in watching the mage. Curling under the covers, Fenris attempted to push the image out of his mind with irritation, only to fail miserably when he realized that the bed he was laying in smelled deeply of the person he was avoiding thoughts about and sighed. 

“Fenris,” the man jumped at the sound of his name, “D’you mind blowing out that candle?” 

“I-” Fenris hesitated, was he comfortable asking the mage to leave it burning? Was that even safe? “Sure.” He didn’t want to be a bother, not after the events of the day, so he turned to his side and blew out the candle, darkness consuming the room and the elf in one bite. 

 

Sleeping was always something he had struggled with, Hadrianna hounding him, when she didn’t the fear of her did, and even when he was free it was the memories. A whole night’s sleep had not been seen by the elf in his memory, and possibly before that, but yet his inability to sleep in Anders’ clinic seemed to be worse. Although the reason he could not pinpoint, Fenris knew it had to do with the dark. He hated it, avoided it at all costs by burning a candle until he fell asleep and waking in daylight. Darkness reminded him of his past, of before he had escaped, and of Seheron, the way he had become accustomed to a new people and then had to throw it all away because of Danarius’ words. He hated it. The darkness brought up his most vivid memories of fear and hatred, and especially here, in the presence of a mage, he could not find rest for more than a few minutes before some minute sound had his ears straining and his muscles tensed again. 

Eventually he did fall into a fitful sleep, and while he could not remember what had haunted him behind his lids upon waking, he woke to an echoing scream that must have been his. It certainly didn’t belong to the mage sitting on the side of the bed with a worried expression on his face. How he was able to see said expression perplexed him until he realized Anders had lit the candle again and his heart slowed slightly from its racing just for that. 

“Are you alright?” the mage asked cautiously.

“Yes. I am fine.” Fenris tersely replied, avoiding his eyes.

Anders sighed, “You don’t have to tell me why, but if there is anything I can do to help will you let me know?” 

“Oh, and tell you my vulnerabilities so that you can take advantage of me easier?” the elf snapped. He knew it was unfair but fear still gripped at him and he could not bring himself to trust the mage. 

“Fenris…” Anders furrowed his brows, “Why would I take advantage of you?” 

“You are a mage.” 

“Yes well, I happen to have saved your life earlier so I don’t know about you but that would change my opinion on someone.” the mage quipped, clearly frustrated.

“Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean I trust you, mage. I am in a weakened state and I am not sorry about being defensive,” Fenris snapped back and the men stared at each other testily.

“If I was going to take advantage why do it now? Why not when you were thanking me earlier? Or when you were sleeping? Why didn’t I drug you and have you unconscious and pliant, just for me? Why?” Anders assaulted him with questions, voice raising slightly as he went on, “Maybe, have you considered that maybe it's because I’m not a fucking  monster?”

Fenris was silent. Anders seethed. Running a hand through his hair Fenris stood, forcing Anders backwards, and grabbed his things, heading for the door. A strong grip on his upper arm stopped him but he tugged out of the mages grip.

“I clearly impede on your space, I will go.” Fenris stated, continuing towards the door. 

“Wait!” Anders grabbed for his arm again, “You can’t leave. I’m sorry I snapped like that, but I don’t know if you’ll make it through the night and I need to be close.”

Fenris turned to yell something in reply, but the words stuck in his throat when he saw the open and genuine concern on the mage’s face.

“Please Fenris, I’ll sleep in the other room if you need me to, that’s fine, but please just stay until I’m sure you’re better.” Anders practically was begging and the elf thought he might melt. 

“You mean to tell me you put my life above your comfort,” Fenris asked, confusion painting his features and Anders’ heart broke.

“Of course I fucking do,” Anders muttered and took the items out of the elf’s arms and returned them to the chest, turning away from the man he was speaking to, “You should go back to sleep, let your body recover and fight the poison as best it can. If you’re not feeling well at any point feel free to wake me.” 

He turned to see Fenris standing much closer than he had been when Anders turned away, and startled a little. Fenris was staring at him searchingly and Anders’ heart pounded solidly in his chest. 

“I…” Fenris turned his gaze away and Anders resisted the urge to pull his chin up, “I would like to keep the candle lit while I sleep.”

There was something hiding behind his closed lips and Anders could tell, but he wasn’t sure he should ask so he simply looked, with an unasked question in his eyes at the elf. 

“Also,” Fenris continued, and Anders congratulated himself on good patience, “It is quite cold so I wondered if we might share body heat.” 

“You’re asking me to share a bed with you?” Anders clarified, unsure, and really not wanting to accidentally make the elf think he was taking advantage.

“Yes, I suppose so.” With that Fenris turned and almost fell onto the bed, crawling up to the edge of the covers and slipping under, leaving room for Anders beside him. He watched curiously as the mage stood there a little shocked and then crawled into bed as well. Fenris took strange comfort in the warmth of the body beside him and with the light of the room he found himself falling asleep much more quickly.

 

Upon waking the second time Fenris was not terrified, nor was he faced with a messy haired mage that had worry written over his features. No, instead he had soft hair splayed over his neck with hot breath ghosting down his spine, a warm, solid arm around his waist and a leg between his thighs. His body tensed, ready to fight, before he realized that the mage was sound asleep and they had likely been in this position for a long time. 

Fenris relaxed into the body behind him and closed his eyes, not tired enough to fall back asleep but just allowing himself to enjoy the warmth they shared. When Anders woke, not long after Fenris, he stilled much like the elf had before asking, “You awake?” very softly.

“Yes I am,” Fenris replied and when Anders seemed to shift away he added, “It’s fine.”

Anders then began to remove his arm, lifting it a few inches off Fenris’ chest before the elf’s hand gripped his wrist to stop the movement, repeating, “It’s fine.”

“By ‘fine’ you mean ‘I’m comfortable and warm please don’t move’ right?” Anders asked, voice thick from sleep, into the elf’s neck.

“Yes, I suppose. Something like that.” Fenris smiled slightly, “I feel… safe like this. It is a welcome change.” 

Anders kissed the back of his neck in response and Fenris could not stop the small shiver that ran down his spine. It was not lost on him that Anders was a reasonably attractive man, but a mage is a mage, and their conflicting opinions had hindered anything that could have resulted from this attraction. Yet, Fenris had never felt so safe as he did wrapped in this mage’s arms, and the memory of Anders’ finger tracing runes over his chest the evening before made him tremor again. 

“You’re alright?” Anders muttered, though whether it was a question or a reassurance the elf didn’t know. 

Humming in response, Fenris pressed back against the mage’s chest and was rewarded with a series of soft pecks to his neck. A soft whimper slipped from the elf’s lips and Anders smiled against his skin. 

“What was that again about not taking advantage?” Fenris asked lightly, clearly jesting and not serious.

“Sweetheart it isn’t taking advantage if I have you begging for it,” Anders practically whispered right into the elf’s ear, “And I’m good at making people beg.” 

“Kaffas,” Fenris huffed, shaking in Anders grip as one of the mage’s fingers brushed a nipple. 

“Just to check though,” Anders said more seriously, “Is this alright.”

“Yes. Get on with it, mage.” Fenris almost growled and Anders just laughed. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm unsure about adding a smut chapter but idk I might who knows I'm not in school for the next four months so I might have time. For now, its done though.


End file.
